


Last Night on Earth

by Writer_Geekgirl



Series: Castiel and Dean: An Apocalyptic Love Story [26]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Destiel Promptober, F/M, Goodbyes, Last Day On Earth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 06:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21192746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_Geekgirl/pseuds/Writer_Geekgirl
Summary: In the dark, Castiel agonizes over decisions on their last night on the zombie apocalypse world.This work is part of a Destiel Promptober 2019 prompt series. The stories are inspired by two different word prompts each day but the short vignettes will all tie in together and weave a larger story. Each story will be standalone (for the most part).The prompts for the day are: Dark and Magic Tools





	Last Night on Earth

Castiel sat in the dark watching Dean sleep. He could hear the murmuring of voices in the next room. Sam and Rowena were saying their intimate goodbyes. He sighed. Dean was angry at him. Beyond angry. After Castiel told them that he and Rowena would be casting the spells the next day, Dean had drunk most of a bottle of whiskey and collapsed in the bed. He wrestled with the decision; it would be easy to stay in this world. 

He wondered why, when there was a tough decision to be made, he had to do it alone. When he decided to take the souls to defeat Raphael, to steal the Colt to kill Dagon, to strip the spell from Donatello's mind, or to summon the angels to form an army, he had made his choices alone. Sam and Dean always had each other; so often, Castiel had to rely on his own sense of right and wrong to determine his path and direction. He slumped in his chair. Often, he had come to find he had made the wrong decision, like not telling Dean and Sam about Jack's soul. He had asked for guidance from God so often, and not only had Chuck not advised him, he probably ate popcorn or pancakes dressed in his robe and underwear and watched as Castiel agonized over his choice. 

His bottom lip trembled. By returning them to their time, he was dooming Dean and Sam to live out all the pain and suffering of the thirteen intervening years. He could simply not return them. What would become of that world? Would it turn out like the apocalypse world Michael had created in the other reality? Would an apocalypse even happen if Sam and Dean weren't there? What would happen to Claire, Jody, Donna, Alex, Garth, and the other friends and family that remained behind? It would be so easy to destroy the spell components and to live out their lives in this zombie world. Jack was dead. He didn't know if he could save him. What was the point?

Dean's voice growled from the bed, "Cas, if you think any harder, your head is going to explode. Come to bed."

"You're angry with me," Castiel replied.

"I'm not angry, Cas. I'm scared. I don't want to lose you. Come to bed."

Castiel shrugged out of his trench coat and suit jacket. He started to climb into the bed. Dean mumbled, "Pants too." Castiel stripped down to his boxers and slid under the sheets. Dean cuddled close to him and flung an arm over his chest and nestled his head again Castiel's shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel whispered.

"You're going to make me forget, Cas, about us and what we have together."

Castiel placed his hand on Dean's shoulder. The pulsating warmth flowed between them. "You won't remember the details but you won't forget. You'll know when I find you again. You'll feel the bond. We belong together. We're just better together."

"Why's is it always us that has to make the sacrifices, Cas? Our whole lives," Dean said, his voice choked with emotion.

Tears escaped from the corners of Castiel's eyes as he thought of Chuck. It was all done for his amusement. Every loss, every sacrifice, every lowest point. No matter what odds they defied and obstacles they climbed, it was done for God's amusement. He couldn't tell Dean that now. He wouldn't. Instead, he murmured, "I would take the burden from you if I could. However, there's a bigger story than just you and me. People you love are part of that story. You save a lot of people, Dean. You saved me. You didn't really like me at first. You changed me for the better."

"It doesn't seem fair."

Castiel squeezed his eyes tighter. "It never does. Jack dying so young wasn't fair. Your mother dying wasn't fair. What happens to Sam because of the demon deal isn't fair. But we just keep having to move forward and do our best. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

Castiel couldn't control the tears any longer. He started to sob. Dean rubbed his back. "What, Cas? Talk to me."

"I have everything to be sorry for, Dean. I'm to blame for so much. You won't always think the way you do now in the future. You'll blame me and it will cut deep."

"Future me sounds kind of like a douche," Dean said.

"No. Future you is a man who had to overcome more than any man should ever have to endure. I'm proud of you, Dean. I'm so fucking proud."

Dean scoffed, "Angels aren't supposed to curse."

"Angels aren't supposed to fornicate with humans, but here we are."

Dean let out a sad laugh. "Always with the fornicate or copulate. We need to teach you better words for making love, dude."

Castiel tried to commit every plane and line of Dean's body to memory. The way his breath puffed against his cheek. The way the weight of Dean's arm felt across his chest. This was the last night on Earth scenario and all he wanted to do was hold Dean. If he did more, he wouldn't be able to do what had to be done. Eventually, Dean drifted off and Castiel quietly counted his heartbeats.

Thousands of heartbeats later, a soft rap sounded on the door. The light was beginning to peek around the corners of the hotel room's window. Castiel pulled on his pants and opened the door. Rowena stood outside the door; her eyes red-rimmed with no makeup. She had her arms wrapped around herself, shaking even though it wasn't cold. Castiel placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "Good morning, Rowena."

"So, we have to be doing this today?"

"You know we do. Eventually, the archangels in our reality will realize they've fallen off the grid if they haven't already. The longer we put it off, the bigger the ripple will be for them to detect. And every day that we stay here will only bring us more heartache later."

She smiled at him wanly, "Why is doing the right thing so difficult, Cas?"

Castiel replied, "That's the first time you've ever called me Cas."

"I use the full name of people because when you use a nickname, you give them a part of yourself. It reduces the layers between you. It's part of my armor. Sam broke it though. Those stupid, flannel-covered oafs and that wee Nephilim broke hundreds of years of conditioning."

Castiel looked at the rising sun bleakly. He opened the trunk of the Thunderbird and said, "No sense putting it off. Let's assemble the ingredients and your tools. We have work to do."


End file.
